


Scent

by cafemints



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Confessions, Fluff, Fuckbuddies, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Mild Smut, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:34:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25695133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cafemints/pseuds/cafemints
Summary: Atsumu knows.Just when Sakusa flutters his eyes open, murmurs a soft “Good morning,” and widens the space bounded by his arms, Atsumu knows he has to go now.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 17
Kudos: 346





	Scent

**Author's Note:**

> [Scent - Colde](https://open.spotify.com/track/2SrK72ytNt8wIh6R5pZ1nq)

_ Vanilla… or could it be with a little bergamot? _

  
  


Atsumu breathes in, his chest heaving and his eyebrows heavily creasing as he tries the hardest to put a label on this particular scent.

  
  


It’s something pure and sweet, but not too pungent for it to be suffocating. In fact, he has made home out of it - here in  _ his  _ arms, here when the sun is out of his sight.

  
  


He wraps his arms tightly around his waist and buries his face into the crook of his neck. Once again and for one more, he inhales deeply.

  
  


It’s something greater than vanilla or bergamot, more than purity and sweetness. It’s too strong that it engulfs him and leaves along with him even when he shuts the door behind, and even when he’s already a couple blocks away.

  
  


Atsumu does not complain, however. He loves basking in his presence, too deeply submerged that he feels he is everywhere along with him, surrounding him, and engulfing him, and too deeply submerged that he can no longer imagine himself without the other.

  
  


He could be drowning in his scent eternally - everytime and everywhere - but on top of it all, he would always choose to be here, where he can take it all in the strongest - here in  _ his  _ arms, here when the sun is out of sight.

  
  


And if he could, he would love to stay here forever;

  
  


But he couldn’t.

  
  


Atsumu knows. Just when Sakusa flutters his eyes open, murmurs a soft “Good morning,” and widens the space bounded by his arms, Atsumu knows he has to go now.

  
  


“Morning,” he manages to say, though hoarse and groggy.

  
  


Atsumu does not waste any more time. He fights the urge to plead and be here for another day or forever more as he sits up. He throws last night’s shirt over his head and lets it unroll over to his waist.

  
  


Then he fights another urge that screams at him, demands him to look at his face, study the dark curls of his hair and how it falls over his chocolate-brown eyes, and to take note of every inch and every freckle of his body as this might be the last time he could ever do so.

  
  


With that thought reverberating across his empty mind, Atsumu admits his defeat and turns a head over his shoulder. He lets his gaze crawl deep into Sakusa’s eyes, then to the prominent moles over his eyebrows, and then to his thin lips. His hand stretches out to tuck some curls behind his ear, to allow himself see more of his beaming beauty. Then his hand traces down to his bare arms and holds the other’s hand weakly, only to let it go momentarily.

  
  


“I’ll go now.”

  
  


_ (Will you beg me to stay?) _

  
  


Sakusa nods his head a little before he throws a blanket over his shoulder and turns to the other side of the bed.

  
  


Atsumu smiles, feeble and aching. He refuses to say anything more, and before he could even do so, he makes sure he is already out his apartment door.

  
  


He presses his back against it and heaves a deep,  _ deep  _ breath.

  
  


Then there goes the sweet scent again, as if it never wanted to leave the same way he exits the bedroom door, or as if it never wanted  _ him  _ to leave.

  
  


_ Why does it hurt so much?  _ Atsumu questions himself, grasping tightly onto the fabric of his shirt. He does not even need to ask himself any longer, because he knows - deep down, he already knows the answer.

  
  


So then,  _ why does it  _ have  _ to hurt so much? _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


-;-;-

  
  


Atsumu finds himself in the comforts of his brother’s restaurant bar later that day. Coming to your sibling for advice is not the best idea, especially when it's The Miya Osamu, his twin. However, Atsumu wants a slap of reality and a string of harsh words; when it comes to the latter, Osamu is the way to go.

  
  


Other than that, though, he simply,  _ badly  _ desires to inebriate himself.

  
  


“I was with him again last night,” Atsumu begins just after downing his first glass. The twins are not very open to each other, actually, because they do not have to. Perhaps, what they say about twins having telepathic communication is true because it happens to the both of them. No words needed, they know whatever goes on with the other.

  
  


But this is a different case. In exchange for the slap of his harsh words, Atsumu has to utter it out, and in order to do that, he has to be at least tipsy.

  
  


“Dumbass,” and that is the first slap of the day.

  
  


“He called and I went.”

  
  


“ _ Truly  _ a dumbass.”

  
  


Atsumu heaves a sigh. He needs something stronger than this. “How am I the dumbass in this situation?”

  
  


Osamu tuts his tongue and drops the glass he has been wiping for the meanwhile. He has his hands on the counter and eyes leveled with the other, who is now gulping and preparing for what is to come.

  
  


“At this point, you are the only one hurting yourself by speeding all the way to his house with just one  _ text  _ from him when  _ you  _ know what you  _ feel  _ for him.”

  
  


And this is just the beginning of the thread that would eventually yank Atsumu off the edge until he falls face first back on earth, yet he already feels like he’s had a hundred arrows thrown at him.

  
  


Groaning, he buries his flushed face into his hands. “What should I do?” he asks, even though he already knows what the twin would tell him.

  
  


Maybe telepathic communication between twins is indeed real.

  
  


“What do you want to do?” Osamu throws another question like a boomerang and this is exactly what Atsumu presumed would happen, “If you tell me you’ll keep coming back to him for a quick fuck if it’s the only way for you to be with him even if it hurts you to the core, I will smack you.”

  
  


...and that, too.

  
  


“Then you’re leaving me no other choice!” Atsumu exclaims suddenly, flailing his arms in the air only to drop his elbows back on the counter eventually and rest his chin on top of his palm, “I will tell him what I really feel and that we should stop ‘cause I need to regain myself,” he adds in a low mutter, almost inaudible.

  
  


For the second time that day, he hears Osamu click on his tongue before he says, “There are many paths to take, but that being your first seems to show you’ve been deliberately considering it for a while now. I can’t stop you.”

  
  


_ (Please, stop me.) _

  
  


Atsumu looks up to his twin and into his eyes, desperately searching for anything swimming amidst the darkness that can potentially halt him from doing the first thing in his mind currently, and that can tell him that there is a better idea than not having to see Sakusa anymore, not being able to hold him so close, and not finding himself within proximity that would allow him to hear his name escape his lips once more;

  
  


Because Atsumu wants that, most of all. Over anything, he would always find himself longing to be by Sakusa’s side even when the sun rises and  _ even  _ after that and  _ even  _ when it sinks into the horizon again. 

  
  


However, he sits there with empty hands.  _ There really is nothing better than this, huh? _

  
  


_ And there will be nothing more aching than this. _

  
  


In the end, he raises both of his hands in an act of surrender and in an act to admit his defeat. He pulls his phone out of his pocket as he decides on the easy yet coward route - message him. He would rather hide behind the phone than say it straight to Sakusa’s face because he knows, if it were the latter, once Atsumu catches at least a glimpse of his pretty face?

  
  


He would not be able to bid farewell.

  
  


Clicking on his phone, it is only when he realizes he received a text from the infamous Sakusa Kiyoomi. How ironic. Such great timing.

  
  


**_Sakusa:_ ** _ come over again later? _

  
  


Atsumu’s thumbs itch to type “yes.” They  _ badly  _ do. However, there are more imperative words to say and he  _ has  _ to do it for himself, for his own damned sanity.

  
  


Slowly, - very slowly and slightly trembling, rather - he begins to type while, at the same time, holding on to the end of the tangled thread, which he would have to let go once he taps on “ _ Send _ .”

  
  
  


**_Atsumu:_ ** _ hey I don’t think I can come over _

_ Not just tonight. I don’t think I can come over even on any other day  _

_ unless I give in to these habits that slowly but surely kill me _

_ In other words, let’s stop doing this _

_ Or else I would fall harder for you to the point it would completely break me _

  
  


He does not heed his message any longer and tap on  _ ‘Send’  _ as quickly as he could; otherwise, he might change his mind and fall back to square one. 

  
  


Then he takes a deep breath and shudders when he exhales.  _ It’s better it’s done now,  _ he reassures himself once, twice, thrice, and, perhaps, a million more times, but it would never nor could ever change the fact that it  _ hurts.  _ It aches. It’s piercing. It’s heavy. It’s sour. 

  
  


Before he knows it, tears are already rolling down on his cheeks. Quite embarrassed, he hides himself by burying his face into his clothed arm.

  
  


And it is rather the worst idea;

  
  


Because from there, he can smell  _ him.  _ Vanilla, bergamot, fairly similar to a powder. It’s sweet and pure and it hurts _.  _ How can a scent which smells so sweetly be this painful - too painful that everytime Atsumu breathes in, he ironically feels suffocated, choking on the words he himself had dropped?

  
  


He muses there is no turning back now. From this moment on, it’s all over. From now on, Atsumu would have to spend his nights within the four walls of his room, curling and grasping onto his aching chest, instead of the usual, where he spends them while engulfed by another’s pair of arms.

  
  


From now on, things would have to come to their turning point…

  
  


Unless…

  
  


_ Unless… _

  
  


Unless Sakusa texts him back.

  
  


And a second later, he does.

  
  


Atsumu’s phone buzzes against the counter, causing its owner to flinch. With tears filling in the corners of his eyes, he reads through the messages sent.

  
  


**_Sakusa:_ ** _ fall… _

_ huh… _

_ Then I’m assuming we have things to talk about _

_ So please, come over tonight _

_ At least by the playground near my apartment _

_ At least for one last time _

  
  


The blonde freezes on his spot, fingers suddenly rigid and grasp around the device abruptly tight. He can practically hear his mind audibly debating whether he should go or not - push or pull, go by the flow of the rushing river or ceaselessly beat against it.

  
  


With wide eyes, he looks up to Osamu and shows him the texts. The twin smirks, rather, and then raises his eyebrows as if he had expected this.

  
  


“What do you want to do?” Osamu queries in a challenging tone. There is a smug hanging somewhere by his smile and that is because he knows the act of questioning is unnecessary at this point; he already knows the answer, anyway. He could ask the same thing for the nth time, but he is very much aware Atsumu would never change his response.

  
  


“I’ll go,” Atsumu replies, determined. “At least for one last time,” he adds.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


-;-;-

  
  


Atsumu arrives a little earlier than the agreed.

  
  


The cold autumn breeze causes him to partially lose his sense of smell, his nose now beet red and aching. Hands deep into the pockets of his jacket, he has been prowling around like a fool by the see-saw. Indeed, there is a part in him that says Sakusa might not show up, might have cowered and forgotten to tell him in the end; the same part tells him he should leave and go home and stop putting his hopes up all the damn time.

  
  


However, there is another part in him that screams louder than the other, and it is that he should stay and wait a tad bit more because Sakusa will come. Besides, he is a few minutes early. Sakusa  _ will  _ come.

  
  


And momentarily, he does.

  
  


“Hey,” the dark-haired greets, soft but audible enough for Atsumu to stop on his steps and whip his head to the side in an abrupt snap. Then washing over him is this sudden breeze of discomfort, reminding him that he basically  _ confessed  _ to Sakusa earlier, and that thought suddenly makes him forget how to act around the other.

  
  


“H-Hi,” Atsumu manages to say, though stuttering and with a shivering hand. He comes closer until Sakusa halts him and gestures him to sit in the swing set with him.

  
  


So he does. Only a meter apart from the other, Atsumu sits, hands on his knees, legs pressed together, feet swaying to and fro. He waits and waits for words to shoot and shatter the glass named Silence until he realizes he should be the initiative one between the two of them when it comes to talks. Always.

  
  


“What do you want to talk about?” and so he begins with shaking eyes, glancing between his feet and the dark-haired guy.

  
  


“Your text,” Sakusa slurs, but still comprehensible.

  
  


Yet again, Atsumu goes for the coward route. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  
  


“It’s okay,” Sakusa is quick to butt in, almost cutting the other off. “Since when?” he asks.

  
  


“I don’t know,” he says, honest, “You don’t really know when you start having…  _ feelings  _ for someone, do you?”

  
  


Sakusa nods his head, the dark curls of his hair falling further down to his face. “I guess I’m just surprised you suddenly dropped it like a bomb.”

  
  


“I’m sorry. I just-” Atsumu breathes in, and instead of nothingness, he can smell the sweet aroma again which comes from a safe distance, “I just felt like I had to say it; otherwise, I would completely lose myself and I don’t want that any more.”

  
  


“I understand; it’s okay,” Sakusa reassures.

  
  


“Is that all you want to talk about?” Atsumu asks because he can already feel a lump hanging by his throat and tears swelling in his eyes, and he does not want to cry right here, right by Sakusa’s side. If possible, he wants to leave  _ now; _

  
  


Because he is certain this is how it ends one way or another. He will leave alone with a broken heart after all those words, and Sakusa will not be able to patch it up no matter what he does…

  
  


Unless…

  
  


_ Unless… _

  
  


Unless Sakusa has something more to say.

  
  


And he has.

  
  


“There’s something more,” Sakusa starts, “Something you don’t know.”

  
  


Atsumu must be imagining things for he thinks he had heard a hopeful undertone in those words. He raises his eyebrows, expectant and patient, and watches the other as he speaks.

  
  


“I guess I was being really selfish for always calling you and telling you to come over without knowing how you actually felt with those and I’m sorry.”

  
  


“No, no,” Atsumu shakes his head fervently, “I was okay with those. I was really happy with you; I was sad about having to leave and-”

  
  


“ _ Ssh, _ ” Sakusa shushes, cutting him off mid-sentence, and so the other zips his mouth shut. “I always called you because I thought that would be the only way to… be with you.”

  
  


Still silence. Atsumu’s eyes grow wide.

  
  


“I’ve-” Sakusa puts himself on pause and covers his face with his hands before he continues, “I’ve always wanted you, but I never told you ‘cause I feel like if I did, I would then have to let you go and I don’t want that. I want to be with you. Always. I want you to be there day and night. I want  _ you. _ ”

  
  


Another short silence follows afterwards and amidst that, a soft chuckle escapes. Miffed and confused, Sakusa takes his hands off his face and when he looks, Atsumu is there, in front of him, sitting on his feet, arms on his knees, looking up to him with the goofiest smile plastered on his face. 

  
  


“Now say that without covering your face,” Atsumu challenges - or teases, rather - and usually, Sakusa would be so irked by his razzing, but this time turns out to be different.

  
  


This time, Sakusa smiles, smug and small before he says, “Kinda in love with you.”

  
  


Another soft chuckle erupts out of Atsumu’s chest and before Sakusa could even join along, the former has already thrown himself onto him, arms wrapped around his neck and face buried into his curls. Then Atsumu plants a kiss on his forehead, on the tip of his nose, and finally on his lips, and that is where it lingers, Sakusa humming against it. 

  
  


When they part and Atsumu presses his forehead against the other’s, he calls, “Omi-kun.” He inhales deeply, taking it all in, basking in it, allowing it to engulf him until he drowns.

  
  


All along, he can only label it as similar to the scent of a powder, pinpoint it as vanilla, as bergamot, as pure, and as sweet, but he has always known there is something greater than those, and all along, he was always unable to realize what it is. 

  
  


But now that he is safely bound by his arms and securely made home out of it, reassured he would have to leave no more once the sun greets hello nor when it bids farewell, Atsumu now knows.

  
  


“You smell like love.”

  
  


He knows.

**Author's Note:**

> hello!  
> aaa this is my first hq fic and i am KINDA NERVOUS. i hope this turned out okay. let me know in the comments!
> 
> come by my [twitter!](https://twitter.com/leviosamu)


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